


Highway to Heaven

by JesusCheese



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Crying, Exhaustion, Fainting, Heat Stroke, Hurt/Comfort, Kim Jungwoo (NCT)-centric, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesusCheese/pseuds/JesusCheese
Summary: During the filming of Highway to Heaven, Jungwoo gets too much sun but tries to power through it. The heat takes its toll regardless.aka NCT 127 love Jungwoo and there's not enough fanfic about thatVietnamese translation here: https://www.wattpad.com/866016836-nct-allwoo-that-flower-fiction-13-127-x-jungwoo
Relationships: Kim Jungwoo (NCT)/Everyone, Kim Jungwoo/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Kim Jungwoo/Lee Taeyong, Kim Jungwoo/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 20
Kudos: 466





	Highway to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first NCT fanfic, so be gentle :)  
> Also, there will be artistic freedom here. I am not a doctor, and I don't have a massive amount of information on NCT. They're very cute tho :)  
> I hope you like it!

Jungwoo hated summer. 

In the heat of July, his back was sticking to the bus seat, sweat acting as a slimy wet glue. Yuta had fallen asleep on his shoulder, hair ticking his sweaty neck.

Fuck, he really really hated summer.

“Here.”

He looked up from where he was spacing out, eyes fixed on the floor of the bus. Taeyong was holding out a bottle for him, water swirling around inside.

He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink that morning. He smiled in thanks, wrapping his fingers around the bottle and taking a swig.

He internally groaned, stomach and full bladder protesting the drink. It was nearly the temperature of bath water from baking in the sun somewhere.

“Is there a colder bottle somewhere?” he asked, not wanting to sound picky but desperate for something, anything cold. He felt like he would simply melt if he had to spend one more minute in the stuffy van.

“No, sorry,” Taeyong replied, looking around a bit. “You feeling alright?”

“I don’t do well in the heat,” Jungwoo said simply. “I’ll be fine once we’re out of the car.”

“I’ll roll down a window. Try to take a nap until we get to the film sight.”

“Thank you, hyung.” He followed his advice, leaning his head on Yuta’s and grimacing at the feeling of his hair on his sticky skin.

The window was rolled down and air made its way into the vehicle, drying off Jungwoo’s skin. It also, however, dried up his throat and nose, making his mouth feel full of cotton. Jungwoo hated summer.

More than his hated for summer, he loathed filming music videos in the heat. The two combined made for one very irritable Jungwoo.

“Okay,” their manager clapped as they got out of the bus. He was wearing a tank top, shorts, and a big smile to get them started. “Let’s get everyone changed in that RV,” he pointed to the large vehicle. “And then hair and makeup in that one.” He pointed to the other one.

The members walked from one bus to the next, climbing in and stumbling over each other and their stylists in the cramped atmosphere. No windows were open. No air conditioning was blowing.

“Noona,” Jungwoo asked, letting her button up his shirt. “Can we turn on the air conditioning? It’s boiling in here. I feel like I can’t even breathe.”

She winced sympathetically but shot him down. “We can’t leave the air conditioning on in the heat. It’s not good for the engine. I can get you a handheld fan or a water if you’d like.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The water was warm again from the trip to the desert. Who would’ve thought that the filming for Highway to Heaven would be so hellish. The fan, at least, served its purpose. He fanned himself all throughout every process, hiding in the shade of the tent once he was ready. The only relief that it brought was keeping the sun out of his eyes.

“Hyung, you don’t look so good,” Mark commented, reaching out with a wet rag and getting the sweat off his face. “Are you sick?”

“The heat’s getting to me,” he answered, pulling at the black material of his dress pants. Seriously, dress clothes in the summer desert. Who did their stylists think he was? “I’m alright.”

“Are you sure? I could ask manager hyung to get you something. Do you need water?”

“All the water’s warm. It makes me feel hot on the inside too.”

“Well...just stay out of the sun, then, okay? Make sure to tell somebody if you’re going to be sick, too. The sun’s horrible this time of year.”

“Such a caring little brother,” Jungwoo cooed, pinching Mark’s cheek to get him off his back more than anything. “I’ll survive the day.”

Mark sat down next to him, opening a random bottle and having a drink before putting it to Jungwoo’s lips and tilting some in. Jungwoo rolled his eyes but swallowed, poking his little brother in the stomach. The water made him feel warmer yet, but at least his mouth was no longer dry.

He leaned over and used Mark’s lap as a pillow. He quickly fell asleep, feeling more and more tired by the minute. Closing his eyes eased the ache in his skull. Sleep was good.

“Jungwoo-yah, wake up.”

Jungwoo’s lids parted as he tried to adjust. He was no longer laying on a lap. Instead, his head was resting on a bunched jacket. He tried to see who’s outline was blocking the sun in front of him. “Taeil?’

“Not quite.” The figure leaned in, tilting his head. Doyoung. “It’s time to go.”

“Go home?” he asked hopefully.

Doyoung’s eyes pinched together. “We’ve barely filmed anything. Are you feeling alright?”

“Fine, fine,” he waved him off, pushing himself into a sitting position and trying not to fall sideways. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the rushing of blood in his head. His breathing picked up and his heart fluttered. “Help me up, hyung. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah. Up you go.”

Jungwoo grabbed onto his outstretched hand, pulling himself up and cursing under his breath. He stumbled into Doyoung’s chest, breath catching and making him cough a few times. “Thanks.”

“Are you seriously alright? Your hands are clammy.”

“What’re we doing?” Jungwoo asked instead of answering his question. Everybody was just as tired as he was, just as dehydrated and achy and dizzy. They were all standing under the same sun and wearing the same clothes. To complain now would be irrelevant. He’s just feeling what all the rest of them are as well.

“The director wants a clif shot with Haechan, Yuta, me, and you.”

“Clif shot?” Jungwoo asked, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He was already growing more tired from just standing in the sun.

“Yeah, see that clif over there? We’re gonna go onto it. Ready to go?”

Jungwoo took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and willing his heart rate to slow down and his brain to be less muddled. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t wet his mouth- Jungwoo absolutely hated summer.

The cliff was one of the most challenging things that he’d ever had to do. Maybe he’d been slacking on the gym too often. Maybe, perhaps, Yuta, Doyoung, and Haechan had been working on their hiking skills lately. For whatever reason, Jungwoo found himself barely able to keep up with their long strides, much less keep a smile on his face for the cameras.

The trip down was even worse. He fell once, banging his wrist on the rock. “Shit,” he cursed, feeling tears well up in his eyes. The knock didn’t even really hurt that bad. He felt so downright horrible and the sun- that damn sun- was unrelenting, beating down on his back.

“You alright, Jungwoo?” Yuta’s voice came from behind. His long fingers were splayed out on his back. Jungwoo spasmed like he’d been shot. The heat from his hand was billowing against his skin.

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, bringing his wrist to his shirt.

Yuta caught the hand, pulling it away from his chest. “You’ve nicked yourself,” the Japanese man noted with concern. “Let’s go get a bandage for that. Come on up.” He didn’t give Jungwoo much of a choice, hoisting him up from the ground and quickly leading him to the tent, holding most of the younger’s weight.

He gingerly clean off the blood and held pressure with one hand, grabbing Jungwoo water and an apple with the other. “Eat this.”

“I’m not hungry,” he protested, stomach flopping at the mere notion of food. It would make him nauseous.

“You’re shaky, sweaty, and pale,” he shot back, staring at his younger brother. “ That’s partly due to the sun, and partly due to the fact that you haven’t had any food today. Your blood sugar’s low. Eat the apple.”

“I’ll throw up.”

“Jungwoo,” Yuta eyed him sternly. “Don’t make me tell Taeyong.”

He grabbed the apple and sneered, taking a small bite. The juice wet his tongue and snuck down his throat. He ate another bite. Then another. Then another. Soon enough, the apple was gone and he drank down the warm water, feeling a little better now that he was in the shade. His wrist had stopped bleeding too, only a small scratch remaining.

“Feel a little bit better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jungwoo nodded. “It’s real hot.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Yuta agreed. “Keep pushing through, Jungwoo-yah. We’ve only got solo shots and dancing left.”

Dancing. Great.

“What do I do now?” Jungwoo asked, confused once more. Every event that had happened since he’d arrived had felt like such a blur.

“Well, Mark’s doing his solo shoot right now,” Yuta informed, sticking his head out of the tent. “Wanna go watch?”

“Do I ever,” he deadpanned, getting up from the ground and swaying a bit. Still dizzy. Great. He let Yuta’s arm around his shoulder guide him through the desert and behind the camera that was shooting photos of Mark.

Jungwoo detached himself from Yuta, mouth already drying. He patted his head and chewed on his lip when he felt the heat of the sun on his hair. Maybe that was why his brain felt like it was boiling, throbbing and pulsing like a liquid rather than a solid. He grabbed a towel from on top of a camera box and sat on it, saving the strength in his legs for later on.

Arms wrapped around him from behind and he shuddered, prying them off of him. “Don’t,” he grunted. “It’s too hot.” The person poked their head around to look at Jungwoo, but he was spaced out, too tired to actually focus on who it was.

“-ah, Yah, Jungwoo. Look here. Jungwoo!”

Jungwoo hummed when there were fingers snapping in his vision. He sluggishly blinked and turned to face Taeyong.

“Here, have this fan,” Taeyong offered, sliding it into his hand. He felt the wind on his neck, drying the sweat...well, what remained of it. He found that he was sweating less, which was a relief. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to feel your own bodily fluid running down your ribcage. “Have you been drinking?”

“Mhm,” he hummed tiredly, supporting his head in his hand. “Yuta made me.”

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m good,” he answered honestly. While he was sitting down, there wasn’t much that bothered him. In fact, the heat around him was starting to cocoon him in a warmth that had his eyes slipping closed. The headache was forgotten as he fell back to sleep once more. He felt himself tipping into a lap again and fingers through his hair. He smiled. This was nice. He could stay like this for a while.

“Hey, it’s time for dancing, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo hummed, angry that he was being woken from his nap. For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. For all he knew, he was in the dorm, snuggled into his bed with his covers pulled to his chin.

“Five more minutes.”

Silence. They were going to let him sleep.

“Yeah, no. Get up, Jungwoo, seriously.” Jungwoo’s eyes opened. He was in Taeyong’s lap with Johnny standing over him. Johnny spoke again. “Come on, I’ll help you up. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m tired,” he whined, reaching up and letting Johnny pull him to his feet. He felt like a child, wanting to cry because his mind was so muddled. He just wanted to fucking sleep and none of these assholes would let him be.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“I slept fine!” he snapped, losing footing and crashing into Johnny’s chest. The elder encircled him in his arms, muscles flexing in what Jungwoo perceived as anger. Johnny had every right to be angry. Jungwoo was being lazy and stubborn, yelling at him when he’d only shown concern. “Sorry, hyung,” Jungwoo put a smile on his face, pushing himself away from Johnny. “I could’ve gotten a few more...hours.”

Johhny nodded, clapping his shoulder. “Normally I’d let you be, but this is literally the last thing we have to do today. Just the choreography, okay? Go ahead and get in your spot.”

He shuffled over, vision popping and swimming before him. Somehow, he managed to get into the starting position. The music started, echoing off of the cliffs behind them and causing mayhem in his mind. Still, he danced, muscle memory taking over and forcing his body through sloppy, somewhat accurate motions.

His head throbbed, his stomach flipped from the apple, and his entire body felt like it was just about to shut down. He found it hard to breathe. Where were they? He kept dancing but nobody told him to stop, so he could only assume that.

“Mouth the words! Mouth them!”

Jungwoo was in front suddenly. Oh. The bridge. He uselessly open and closed his mouth, eyes widening and narrowing, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Everything made him tired. Maybe if he just...Shit, fuck, that hurt.

Haechan had cut in front of him for his part, preparing for the final chorus when Jungwoo had pitched forward, smacking his cheek on the maknae’s hip. Clumsilly, he reached his hands up for something, anything, to stop him from faceplanting on the desert floor.

His fingers got tangled in Haechan’s shirt, stretching the material with the pathetic attempts Jungwoo made to pull himself up again. His arms were so tired. His body lurched and swayed. His face was pressed into Haechen’s side.

“Cut! Jungwoo, what-”

He tilted. He was going down.

Somebody wrapped their arms around his chest from behind, pulling him up and away from the ground. The action made his stomach flip again and his apple came up, puddling on the dirty ground. He wheezed, tears coming out of his eyes as he reached for his face, pushing at his skin because everything was too hot it was too hot he was dying it was too hot he wanted to sleep

“Fuck, Jungwoo-yah, Jungwoo! Hey, Jungwoo! Jung-”

“Get him to the tent!” Johnny yelled at whoever was holding him. “Jaehyun, now. Get him in the shade now!”

He was being swept from the ground, gasping for breath as his chest went up down up down up down

His head dangled, neck bent at an odd angle to where he could see his members chasing behind him, looks of terror on their faces. He felt something soft under his head. He was finally in bed again. He could finally go to sleep.

“Jungwoo, stay awake for me. Come on now, baby. Stay awake! Jungwoo! Jung-”

…

“What’s wrong with him?” Mark asked frantically, standing just outside of the tent. “What’s wrong, Johnny, what’s-”

“Mark, shut the hell up and let me think for a minute,” Johnny screamed, a harsh comparison to his natural easy-going demeanor. Jungwoo’s eyes were open, dilated pupils swimming on an expanse of white. Tears streamed.

“He’s not sweating,” Taeyong cried out. “How is he not sweating!”

“We need something cold,” Johnny said, winging his hands. “Yuta, get his shirt off and pour water on him. Jaehyun, get a fan and make sure his skin stays cool. We need...fuck! We need something cold! Everything’s hot!”

“There’s an ice box with water and juice in the staff van,” somebody said behind him.

Johnny whirled around. “And you didn’t think to share with Jungwoo while he was having a heat stroke! Go get them!”

Johnny knelt by his brother’s head after the staff had run off, pinching the skin lightly. Jungwoo looked at him, wide terrified eyes sending a pang of agony through his hyung. 

“Hyung,” Jungwoo breathed out, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I do...I...I do-don-don’t feel...good.”

“I know you don’t, but stay awake for me, yeah? Yuta and Jaehyun are gonna help you cool off and when you’re all better, you can have some juice. Just stay awake.”

His bare chest was exposed as Yuta poured bottle after bottle on his body, Jaehyun furiously fanning. Even Taeyong had grabbed two electric ones, making sure his neck was cool. Somebody had taken his shoes and socks off as well.

The staff was back with the ice. Johnny took three bottles and placed one behind his neck and one in each armpit. He laid another on his lower abdomen. The staff was right. They were ice cold.

“Is he going to be okay?” Haechan asked, standing nervously by Taeil. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“He’ll be fine,” Johnny calmed his dongsaeng. “He got to hot, but I think we got to him before he had a heat stroke.”

“He fainted,” Jaehyun whispered, arms still outstretched and hands shaking. “He...why did he faint.”

“Have a drink, Jaehyun,” Taeil said, handing him an apple juice. Johnny turned back to Jungwoo, knowing that his other brother was in caring hands. 

He reached out and touched his neck, shaking his head at his rapid pulse. He needed to get his heart rate down. 

“Jungwoo-yah, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

There was a small spasm, but that was enough for him. Jungwoo’s eyes were still trained on the roof of the tent. He was shivering violently. “I’m...cold.”

“You’ll be just fine in a minute. Try to slow your breathing down, it’s too fast.”

“I...I can’t...I can’t I can’t I c-c-ca-can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby, you can do it. Try it here, in,” he inhaled. “And out.” He blew it out. Jungwoo’s lips pursed as he looked at Johnny’s own lip shape. He was somewhat following along, which was better than before.

After a few more rounds, Jungwoo had his breathing controlled on his own and his tremors had calmed. The speed of his heart was much less hectic and the tent was silent, the only sounds being his breaths and the whirring of the tiny fans.

“I-I brought the doctor.”

Johnny turned and waved her in. She couldn’t have been older than thirty. THe second-eldest stood protectively as she placed her stethoscope on Jungwoo’s chest and talked to him quietly, not getting much of a response.

“He needs some sugar,” she concluded. “But he’d suffering from exhaustion, not a stroke. A hospital visit isn’t necessary.”

“Fuck that,” Yuta cursed. “He just fucking passed out, lady. You’re mental if you think-”

“Yuta,” Taeyong scolded. “Watch it.”

“Are you listening to her?” Yuta exploded. “She thinks that Jungwoo doesn’t need to see a doctor,”

“She is a doctor!” the leader snapped, voice rising in authority. Yuta knew the conversation was over. “Thank you,” he told the woman, grabbing some apple juice from Taeil, knowing that it was his favorite.

“I’m going to stand over there,” she pointed to the other corner. “Ask me questions if you need to.”

Taeyong helped Jungwoo into a sitting position. The singer groaned.

“Drink some,” Yuta encouraged as Taeyong held the bottle to his mouth. “Come on, it’ll help.”

Jungwoo opened his mouth, allowing the sweet liquid into his body. As he took more and more in, his vision became less foggy and his senses clearer. The first thing that he realized was that he was absolutely freezing. He grabbed the bottles from around his body, slippery with condensation, and dropped them to the side.

“How are you feeling?” Mark asked.

“Cold,” he murmured, pushing himself up further and finishing the bottle. It was quickly replaced with another. “I fucking hate summer,” he said bitterly, mostly to himself. The rest smiled and let themselves calm down a bit, knowing that Jungwoo was feeling even a little bit better.

The next time they were at the desert, the boys drank their weight in fruit juice and relaxed in an air conditioned RV.

Jungwoo hated summer a little bit less.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! If I made any mistakes regarding NCT, I apologize to all the nctzens out there.  
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
